30 Seconds Till Eternity
by Petalwing
Summary: BonnyDamon gettogether. Florence, the city that conceals many secrets. Some of them are dangerous, old and... deadly. And some of them are yours. Protect them if you can...
1. Prologue

**30 Seconds Till Eternity**

Prologue

30 seconds. Thirty fucking seconds will make a difference between life and death and I can't recall that damn code. Thirty seconds. And only one chance. And if I fail, the system alert will go on and we'll never make it out alive. I look around. Damon is right behind me, staring furiously at me.

„What are you waiting for?" he snaps.

Then he stares through the large glass window right infront of the desk I'm just sitting on. He watches her mute limb form. Poor Bonnie. She surely had her share of suffering and I'm not sure that she will ever find out how much he loves her. I know now. He still hasn't admitted it yet, but his pressed lips and pained expression speak a clear language. Not to mention the intense aura of passion and plain terror at the prospect of loosing her. I can feel the strong emotions rushing through his blood just too clearly for my taste. Who said the life of an Empath was easy? I know what I'm talking about, most of the time my abilities were a curse instead of a blessing. Maybe he notices my curious looks and faces me again. These impressive dark pools he calls eyes are directed straight at my face. I can nearly feel them physically, piercing through my body. He tries to hide it, but I _feel_ that he is frustrated to the point of plain unarticulated screaming. He hates the fact that he is utterly helpless, that everything depends on me and my memory. How he must abhor depending on me, the worst freak he has ever met.

„DO SOMETHING!"

His voice is harsh now. He looks like he wishes to threaten me. He is good at threatening people. But with what does he want to threaten me now? That he will kill me if I fail? If I fail, we'll all get killed, vampires and humans alike. And he knows that. And he knows that I know. And with this realization words fail him. But I find myself surprisingly eloquent.

„If you want your honey back alive, shut up and let me work." I spit out. A part of me revels in his helpless fury.

„Then work!" he mutters darkly.

I just ignore him and turn back to the keyboard before me. I watch the little screen and the secquence of numbers it displays. The count goes downward, inevitably. But time stretches endlessly and each number seems to last for eternity. These could be the last seconds in my very existence and I still can't recall the precious code number. I glance over my shoulder and get a glimpse of Elena and Stefan. Elena is bent over his crouched form and comforts him as much as she can. He is in pain. I didn't even need empathy to tell that, and to tell that he is loosing too much blood. She also casts a glance at me and bites her lower lip. I bet she feels like shouting at me too, but she knows better. Still the calm beauty who made me go on this crazed kamikaze mission in the first place. Violently I turn back to the keyboard knowing I have to get a grip on myself. Only 26 seconds left. My time is running up and its now or never. Carefully I type the first number. In these fleeting seconds with all our lives at stake it all comes into my mind at once and my brain unrolls the whole chain of events which lead us to this point like a red carpet. Only 22 seconds left now and my fingers come to a halt. So far I've typed in all 14 numbers correctly, I guess, but the last one leaves me insecure again. I'm stuck between two possibilities. Seven or eight? Will it be seven or eight? My finger hovers right over the keys and I search my mind frantically for a solution, but by all means, it suddenly has gone blank. Except for the story which changed our lives so profoundly. So I step on the carpet and remember how it all began...

20 seconds left...

tbc


	2. 20

How nice, positive reader-feedback! Thanks! If I remember correctly, Bonnie had some sort of empathy among her psychic abilities. But my narrator is an OFC. If you read this chapter, she'll look like a total Sue (sigh), but at least, she has some severe flaws and its not your typical Sue story. ;) Enjoy...

**20**

It all began the day I decided to leave the lab. It was around my 18th birthday and I decided to see the outside world. I didn't want to wait any longer. I wanted it now. I longed for it. I wanted to do all the things I only knew from the TV-shows I watched and the books I was allowed to read. I wanted to go the the movies and eat real popcorn. Or chocolat, burgers and all the unhealthy stuff I never got in the lab. And cars. I wanted to drive one. Not only in a simulation cabin but on a real road. I also dreamt of things even more simple. My heart ached for walking through a park or a crowded shopping mall without being under their control. They. Those bastards. My captors. My creators. I'm their experiment, their homuculus.

I can't say when I began to dislike them. I don't remember a particular incident starting it, but, nevertheless, I disdain these men and their nurmerous ways of using me. As I said, I'm an experiment, the attempt at creating a perfect killer. A loyal, dependent and yet powerful subject to serve their ends. That's my purpose. To kill people. I'm traceless. Brilliant. Effective. I've proven it in all simluations they forced me to pass. The true queen of the night, the one who can challenge even vampires and win. Vampires. The Salvatores. I never expected vampires to be like them. I always imagined inhuman monsters with darkness in their hearts. But they aren't monsters. In fact they are more human then I am. But who am I?

Without exaggeration I can say that I am the most powerful empath I know. I even have telepathic abilities. And I'm a soldier. I have been night-trained and I can use a small calibre weapon as well as a machine gun or even a crossbow if necessary. Or a stake... My knowledge on computers and on security systems is quite professional, but that comes as no surprise as I was designed for the purpose of getting into high security areas. This is quite an impressive set of skills for a eighteen-year-old human but I doubt I am totally human anyway. On first sight I look like a human. I am of average size and weight, I have brown hair and hazel eyes. My face is unimpressive and plain as is my taste in clothing. I am that type of person you see and forget instantly. I can blend in in any crowd. But I don't know which weird coctail of genes they used in their lab when they breeded me. They hoped I would have telepathic abilities and they were highly satisfied when I surpassed all expectations. I can read in peoples minds and in their hearts as others can books. That's why my creators and captors mostly communicated with me via phone and screen.

Most ironically, I lack feelings completely. Really, I do. I don't know what hate is, or love, or even happiness. I know how others experience it but I never felt it myself. It is like I am just an empty cask waiting to get filled with strange substances, but never able to produce them. I'm a camelion with no colour of my own. I haven't been designed for that. Feelings are hindrances for a killer and so I have none. I'm as cold as stone. That helps me to survive, but when I watch Elena and Stefan or Bonnie and even Damon, I wonder how it is to feel something for another. To have a bond to another individual.

However, when I decided to leave the lab and my captors and act on my own, I didn't know that I would be confronted with such intricate musings. I just acted as most teenagers act. I didn't think very long about the consequences, I just did it. I grabbed the first chance to escape. It was my first real mission actually and I was sent out for an Italian Mafia-boss. We had localized him in his summer residence in the city of Florence. So far, I had done my job very well. I had snuck into his house, made it past the guardians, cracked the alarm system and the cameras and found his private rooms. He slept in his large bed, never knowing that death was approaching on tiptoes. It was over in a second. He was gone without a sound. A little bit of blod run from his headwound into the pillow. The sight didn't stirr any emotion, apart maybe from calculating satisfaction about a successful mission. I turned away and searched his rooms, following my orders. My keepers wanted some secret information he had in his safe. So I went on, looking for the safe. When I finally found it behind a well made piece of tapestry I found it very easy to open. I found the papers I needed and pocketed them in a plain black portfolio. Then I made sure that the safe was empty. It wasn't. In the back was a little piece of paper, folded seveal times. I felt a stirring of curiosity and openened it. It was a handwritten letter. The handwriting was very accurate, elegant, and as far as I could tell a bit old fashioned. It was a personal letter adressed to my victim. Though it was obviously a business letter, the stentences expressed friendship and a mutual respect of both the addressee and the writer. And it was signed with a name I didn't know then. „Damon Salvatore".

I knew that my victim was involved in several kinds of illegal business, but I absently wondered why somebody ordered a large amount of blood bags on a regular basis through dark canals. I shrugged and let the letter fall on the floor.

When I climbed out of the window, being no more then a shadow in the night, it occurred to me how easy it would be to flee. I just had to get rid of the GPS-sender I was wearing, disguised as a necklace, and my headphone. And then I just wouldn't go back. I would leave the grounds and disappear into the city. Tasting freedom instead of returning to the cold cell I called my home. The idea was tempting and I found myself appreciating it more and more. When my feet touched the ground soundlessly I had made my decision. Quickly I opened the necklace and threw it behind me. And then I took the headphone off and threw it over my shoulder in the same manner. It felt good to leave the symbols of my servitude behind. I took in a deep breath of cool air and then I snuck away from the house using trees and bushes to hide and keep out of the guard's sight. Soon I had reached the wall surrounding the grounds and darted over it. Then, I ran away into the night. At least I tried. I had just crossed a little dark square, when I heard a car coming. All my senses alerted me to the sound of wheels. I knew this sound. It was one of our jeeps. Damn. They had known it. They had known it and now they were on my heels much quicker then I had thought. They had positioned cleaners in the area, to wipe me out of existence if I acted on my own. Which I had obviously done. Only now it occurred to me that someone in the organization must have anticipated that I probably wouldn't resist the call of freedom. And they had planned for it. That meant they had never trusted me in the first place. Or was that just another test? I was paralyzed by realizing the depth of our mutual betrayal. Thus, I lost precious time. I stood still right in the middle of the plaza when the car moved around the corner. That was when they opened the fire on me. I let myself fall to the ground, jumping, rolling. But I had to get up again to run and reach the safety of the next narrow street. When I jumped up, I felt a hot impact on my left shoulder and I could smell blood. I run as I had never run in my life before. I heard the hissing of bullets all around me. The Fortunes smiled on me in this moment and by sheer luck I crossed the place alive. But the hunt wasn't over yet. In fact it had just begun. I heard several men following me. They were quick but I was quicker. And more agile. I was handicapped by my wound, though. After several minutes of fast, breath-taking chase through narrow streets, I finally noticed how much my shoulder was hurting. The numbness of shock was leaving and the pain it left blinded my senses. And then I made my second mistake that night and ran in the wrong direction. I had meant to reach the popular areas of the city. The places were I could blend in the night-life and throw my pursuers of my trail.

But instead of finding the crowded street caffees that were open all night as it is usual for the Mediteranian countries, I soon noticed that I had run straight to the riverbank of the Arno, the large river that crosses the city. However, they were still so close to me that I couldn't change direction without risking getting into their lines of fire once again. So I ran forward, this being the only way I could take now. Eventually I found myself on a high empty bridge without any cover or hiding spot. And I knew I had only seconds until the guys with the guns would approach, so I did the only logical thing to do. I took a deep breath and plunged into the water.

The impact of the fall nearly stunned me, but this was what I was trained for. My cold, analytic mind made my aching muscles obey and I tried to dive as long as I could. I saw lightbeams flickering above the water's suface. Somehow I managed to get under the bridge. Then I had to emerge due to lack of oxygen. I tried to move as silently as I could and turned up next to a pier. I had just taken in some desperate breaths when I heard motorboats approaching with rapid speed. They had prepared for this very well. Much too well for my taste. If I stayed here, they would find me, if I left my cover, they would shoot me from above and if I stayed underwater, the inadequacies of human physiology would solve their problem as well. So I did the only thing that was left to do. I could only hope that my pursuers didn't have the mind to search me there. I climbed up the pier. Two or three times I was sure I wouldn't make it. My fingers were wet and slippery, my shoulder hurt like hell and the pier didn't have many protusions to step on. However, mortal danger is a very effective motivator and so I managed to climb up the pier and cling to some metal bars that were part of the bridge's construction. I tried to make myself as small as possible to blend in with the bars. It was no second too soon, since I heard the motorboats halt right under my position. I heard short questions and commands barked through the night. Lightbeams scrutinized the watersurface and the piers, and I nearly stopped breathing when a particluar lightbeam passed by only inches away. Finally, they decided that I must have drowned and left. I felt a surge of relief rushing through my veins. The guns and boats were gone. Unfortunately that didn't mean I was out of danger. I still clung to a bridge about 10 or 15 metres high and the adrenaline was leaving my system. My body started to relax and I lost control of my muscles. I knew that this would happen but I couldn't prevent it. Sometimes even supreme knowledge can't help you. The only thing I could do was trying to adjust to the inevitable. I let go of the bars and made my body as stiff as I could. Then I plunged in a second time. But this time it took me much more effort to stay conscious and moving. I knew I had to make it to the riverbank somehow. I had to crawl. Only these last few metres. Only these last few... I couldn't... If my shoulder had been ok, I would surely have managed the swim but now I couldn't. I could see the riverbank approaching in front of me in the dim light of a streetlamp. But, no matter how hard I tried, my left arm refused to move and I was drawn under water. I realized that I was going to die. While I was still struggling for my life and slowly loosing the struggle, I heard the motor of a car. It halted. At first I supposed that it was another sweeper-team but then I heard the voices of teenagers or young adults.

„We're wrong. I knew it. I told you so Elena. We should have taken the other road. Or even better, a taxi. Here, lets have a look at the map agai-"

„Bonnie, don't be so impatient, at least we're heading in the right direction. Over there is Ponte Vecchio, if we cross it we should find the quarter..."

The girl's voices trailed off.

I tried to cry for help, alerting them to my miserable state, but all I managed was a short gurgle. Then the water crashed over my head and my mind went blank.

Tbc


	3. 19

**19**

I awoke from the pain in my shoulder. I was still floating in the river, but somebody was near to me, grabbing my waist and pulling me out. A female, I noticed dazedly. With long blond hair. It shone silvery in the light of the streetlamp and for a moment I wondered if she was a mermaid. However, my savior's name was not Arielle, but Elena. A light voice cried her name as soon as we had reached the riverbank. Another girl kneeled there, reached downwards and pulled at my limb arms.

„I knew it, Elena." she said excited and breathlessly, „That there was someone having trouble. I felt her presence."

Now that was interesting. Somebody feeling other's auras? A tele-empath like me? I tried to clear my sight and get a glimpse on the girls faces when the blonde pushed me up. She had caught my shoulder and with a soft gasp I passed out again. Not for long, luckily. I stirred when Elena's friend had pulled out a handy and they discussed how to call 911 in Italy. According to their speech pattern, they were American tourists. I felt lucky. They were strangers in this city and maybe I could use that to my advatage. I spoke English and Italian fluently. Deception should be easy. I managed to blubber a soft „No. No Polizia."

They bent over me.

„But you're hurt. You need help, quickly." Elena insisted.

„Do you speak English?" the other one asked. I noticed that she had a curly red hair and an open, friendly face.

„I do speak English. But please, no doctors. No police." I croacked hoarsely, faking an Italian accent.

„Why?"

„Papà... my parents... would find out..." I whispered and tried to look as miserable as I could. Which was not hard since my shoulder still burned. „And then, they force me to go back with them..." That was not quite a lie, but not the truth either. However, since I don't have any moral sentiments to restrain me, I can lie without even twitching a bit. „It was horrible. I had to run away." I added, sounding like a young, innocent Alice who had get lost in Wonderland.

I studied their expressions through half-closed eyes. They looked concerned.

„We could bring her to Damon." The red head suggested. „Maybe he knows a reliable doctor."

„To Damon? Are you kidding, Bonnie?" To my great annoyment, Elena shook her head.

„I'm sure he will behave, you have that agreement..." Bonnie insisted, undisturbed.

Elenas still had doubts.  
„Agreement or not... Can we trust him with a young innocent?"

Innocent? If she had only known the truth behind my pain-stricken face.

„I still think a real hospital-"

„Or you can sit here and talk all night what to do and the bloodloss and the cold will solve your problem." I hissed through clenched teeth. That did it.

„Damon." Bonnie decided. Elena nodded.

„We don't know where to find a hospital, anyway." she muttered while they dragged me to their car and positioned me in the back.

We drove through the dark city. To me it seemed like eons until we passed along an elegant driveway to a private estate in one of the city's best quarters. Automatic doors swung to the side soundlessly, granting us passage. Shortly after, Elena stopped the car in front of a pretentious renaissance mansion. When Elena and Bonnie left the car, the main door openend and a young man hurried down the steps. He wrapped his arms around Elena's shoulders and placed a quick kiss on her lips while simultaneosly greeting Bonnie by waving his hand.

„Its about time you come. I expected you back from the airport an hour ago. And Bonnie, how was your trip?" He had just concluded his sentence when he spotted my crouched form in the back of the car. „Who is that?"

I could get a glimpse on his face. It was very handsome. Dark, wavy hair surrounded aristocratic cheeks and full, kissable lips. He looked like a marble renaissance statue come alive. The only difference was that he was not sky-clad. Well naked Michelangelo-boys would have been to much to ask for. Even on such a perfect evening like this one, I thought dryly.

„She has been hurt." Elena explained. „As far as I know she has run away from home. We found her in the street..."

„And you picked her up like your handbook of do-goody heroines requires." a new voice added acidly. I couldn't see who was speaking, they blocked the sight of the entrance. But the red-head addressed somebody standing inside the house.  
„Nice to meet you, Damon." she said with false excitement. „Nice to see you haven't changed a bit."

Oh, he must be the person they had spoken about on the riverbank. Damon...how strange that this name occurred to me twice this evening. While the other guy, obviously Elena's lover, lifted me out of the car, I wondered if „Damon" was a common name in Italy.

Then I was in the house and placed on a couch in a large living-room on the first floor. Elena brought me a blanket and her boy-friend, I had already named him „Michelangelo" by lack of a proper name, appeared with a bandage in his hands. He sat down with me and examined my shoulder. „That's a bullet shot." he exclaimed surprised. I nodded wearily.

„Run away from home... made it to the wrong quarter... got attacked by some thugs... fell in the river... girls found me..." I informed him about the essentials. At hearing my explanation he radiated concern just like the girls. He put the bandage on my skin and from his swift moveents I could guess that he didn't do this for the first time.

„That should keep the wound from bleeding." he reassured me. „At least for a while. And we will call for a real doctor to take care of you."

I nodded slowly as would somebody who was absolutely helpless. Then I heard the sarcastic voice again.

„Oh well, now that you stopped her from ruining the Chesterfield couch, does somebody take a drink?"

This time I saw who was speaking. Just like Michelangelo his looks were simply gorgeous. He was of average size, lean and muscular with a face as beautiful and cold as white marbe. „A panther" was the first thought that crossed my mind. He moved gracefully and his hair was raven black. He had a dark silken voice that could captivate and enrapture most females on this planet, I guessed.

„By the way, the wet dresses sweet you very well, ladies." he addressed the other girls. A satisfied smile crossed his features when Bonnie did him the favour and blushed. Elena let out an annoyed sigh. So far Damon hadn't even spared me a closer look. I guessed that for a man so good looking and self-assured, it was simply beneath him to notice somebody as plain as me. That didn't bother me. I simply studied their conversation as best as I could. And I sensed that there were certain issues underlying the cheeky comments. Whatever their relations were, they were far from uncomplicated. There was too much tension between the four of them. Or better, between Damon and the other three. How interesting...

Then they discussed which doctor to call for me. Finally Damon rolled his eyes and dialed the number of a private hospital.

„A physician and a surgeon will arrive within twenty minutes." he informed the others casually. „And now that the war victim will get her shining knights, does somebody take a drink?"

Sarcasm seemed to be his normal mode of conversation. However, Bonnie was obviously not at ease with it.

„How can you be so incredibly heartless?" she accused him angrily. Damon cracked a smile.

„Ask the devil to have a heart." he murmured softly. „Anyway, in all of my heartless atrocity, why don't I offer to show you two the bathroom, where you can shower and change clothes." he said in condecending tone.

„How generous!" Bonnie snapped, adopting the sarcasm he had employed before.

„Don't thank me, I would just rather not have you trickling on the Persian you're standing on."

With that he turned and strolled to the door, Bonnie followed him, fuming.

„If you are so obsessed about your furniture being ruined you should probably stick to something less snobbish." she called after him.

Elena and Michelangelo exchanged a resigned look.

„Please take care of her. I'll be back in a minute. I really need to change and besides, I can't leave the two of them alone." Elena said. Michelangelo nodded in agreement. Before she went she whispered something in his ear.

„I'm already doubting whether this holiday in Italy was such a good idea..."

He shrugged.

„You know Damon," he whispered back, „he can't help it, its the bad Salvatore temper."

He gazed after her departing figure so he didn't see me tense.

Salvatore? Damon Salvatore? Could that be? The blood bag guy? What a strange kind of luck. I let myself glide further into the couch. I suddenly I was perfectly sure that the real trouble had just begun.


	4. 18

_Finally, another piece of fanfiction... hope there is still somebody reading that. And, again, thanks to Dally for her help! I'm sorry that it takes so long but currently I have two jobs, that means two lords to serve, and basically no time to spend on fanfic anymore. sigh_

_Anyway, here you go. Hope you enjoy. Thanks to the kind people who reviewed. And a big, fat S o r r y to Ahn-Li for my long silence. (Just in case you read that.)_

**18**

The next morning we all got up late. I had spent the night in one of the guest rooms in an admittedly highly comfortable bed. I had slept deeply, untroubled by vivid dreams. But that was probably due to the strong sleeping pill the physicians had given me earlier in order to keep me sedated during the process of treating my shoulder.

I stirred a little, testing if I could move. I could. Fortunatly the injury wasn't as bad as it had looked at first. The bullet hadn't stuck; it was only a graze. Absently, I recalled the doctor's orders. They had told me to stay in bed at least a couple of days. Of course I had no intention of doing so. Besides, I had by now noticed the smell of fresh coffee and newly baked bread rolls. Groaning, I set up and got out of bed. It took me a while to put my clothes on, with my shoulder and arm all bandaged up. However, finally I was ready to go. I cast a quick glance at a watch on the nightstand. Already half past twelve. I had slept about 10 hours. That's a lot for me, since I usually sleep about 6 hours at night. If ever. I can go well with a meditation of two or three hours if I can't afford a night's rest. However, when I entred the living room again, my new aquaintances were surprised to see me awake already. They hadn't expected me to give any sign of living before the evening. Well, they still took me for the innocent teenage girl I pretended to be. I was content to have them believe exactly that. So I mumbled a shy greeting and sat down on the table, eyes fixed on my dish. I studied them secretly, however and adjusted to the mood I felt among these people.

They were all more or less in their daily routine. It seemed that the events from last night hadn't bothered any of them too much or caused strong emotions. No, not that they weren't caring. In fact, they were really helpful, filling my cup with coffee and such things. I didn't even have to ask. But still I was surprised how quick they had accepted the fact that they had taken in a girl of whom they knew nothing except that she had nearly drowned. I guessed that in America people people were either used a lot to violence in their neighborhood or that this circle of friends had already experienced a lot of crises. My intuition told me that it was the latter. Especially when our host had ties to the Cosa Nostra.

Speaking of Damon, he wasn't there when I joined them, nobody seemed to care that he wasn't. Without him around, the other three were relaxed and friendly. Especially the girls. Michelangelo kept to himself most of the time, studying me as I studied them. I had the faint feeling of alertness, everytime he looked in my direction. I tried to lock into his emotions and to get a glimpse on his thoughts, but there was nothing conspicious. Just concern for the poor thing from the street. Still I had the feeling that he was hiding something from me. As if there was a deeper truth he didn't dare to think about. I couldn't figure out if he did this consciously or not. I figured the latter; still I remembered Bonnie's words from the night ago, when she had made that comment about 'feeling' somebody else. Maybe there was more to these guys that met the eye. So I decided to keep watchful.

They asked me who I was and how I had ended up in the river, of course. I quickly made up a story about me coming from the countryside and having run away from home, about being stranded and lost in the city without cash and without friends. Then I invented a street gang driving me out of my sleeping place and coming after me when I made a run for it. I told them that I had accidently fallen into the Arno by tripping over some piece of trash. So far it was a perfectly ordinary tale of your typical naive runaway kid finding trouble in the big city. I thanked them for their help but they just smiled and made „you're welcome"gestures.

However, I noticed that they exchanged serious looks. I had gone through „so much" last night that they obviously decided to spare me the inevitable What-to-do-next-discussion. At least for a while. I found that very agreeable. Especially since I still hadn't any clue what to do next. I hadn't thought so far when I had run off. Of course I had expected for things to turn out a little more favorably. My made up tale wasn't so far away from the truth, though. I really didn't have anybody in the city I could rely on, so ending up in their protection wasn't the worst fate after all. Their concern and trust gave me the time I needed to analyze the situation and decide how to proceed.

At the breakfasttable I noticed that only the girls, Elena, Bonnie and myself, were eating. Damon and Michelangelo, who by the time had properly introduced himself as „Stefan", seemed to be content with watching us. Damon had joined us several minutes after I had arrived. He didn't say much. They told me that he was Stefan's older brother. Well, Stefan had only eyes for Elena, even without concentrating I could feel the strong vibrations of a deeper attachment between them. Instead I focused my attention on Bonnie and our host, Damon Salvatore. My instincts told me clearly that he was highly dangerous. He studied the group as I did, as if he wanted to get a picture of each person.

However, when I tried to read his mind it was a kind of a shock. There was nothing. His thoughts and his emotions were unreachable, sealed away behind a shield of sorts. I had never experienced something like that. To the outside I stayed cool and just took another piece of french toast but inwardly my mind whirled. What was that? Did he have telepatic abilities? Where had he learned to shield himself like that? Still analyzing, I reached for the coffeepot... and nearly spilled the hot coffee on the table.

I _felt_ something. A contact!

But I wasn't scanning anybody at the moment. So somebody was scanning me. It was like a soft touch on the peripheral regions of my mind. And it had the „scent" of Damon about it. Words are too clumsy to express it. However, I reacted quickly and erected a protection. I tried to model it after what I had felt when I had touched him. It seemed to work. The strange touch lessened and finally vanished. I filled my cup without spilling a single drop and looked up. I met his eyes almost instantly. He looked at me and it was a stare of mistrust and slight interest. Slowly he raised an eyebrow. I returned the stare, perfectly innocent. A soft smile appeared upon his lips and I had the feeling that, for the first time, he really noticed me. It was nothing I had begged for.

„What do we have here?" he said questioningly and with a hint of amusement. My mental alarms thrilled. However, I got help from an unexpected side. Bonnie.

„Damon, stop teasing her. She has gone through so much, and the last things she needs are your icy comments."

„So you've become her spokesman now? Can't she speak for herself?"

Bonnie turned to me.

„Just ignore him." she said. „He is just a jerk."

For some reason I couldn't quite understand yet, Damon didn't look too happy now. Bonnie's intervention worked to my advantage, his attention was divided between us now. I decided a retreat was in order.

„Oh, everything is fine." I said, letting my voice sound strained. My lips trembled a bit while I stared on my plate.

„Its just, I- I-" Tears swelled up in my eyes and my voice became even more shaky, „I don't want to be an inconvenience." I added some depressed sobs. „Sorry." I mumbled and grabbed for my napkin. I pressed it gainast my face, faking tears and fled. Just when I left the room, they all began to speak at once, accusing Damon. Especially Bonnie who fumed at my behalf.

I stood right behind the door, eavesdropping their conversation. I smiled. Fate had sent me a dangerous possible enemy. But it had also sent me a valuable ally. Bonnie might not know it, but she had some power over Damon. Bonnie and the others had probably not noticed his change of expression when she had called him a jerk. His usual arrogant smile had briefly turned into seriousness. As if he cared more for the redhead then he wanted the others to know. Fine for me. If I could manupulate Bonnie, I might gain some control over him through her. That could come handy.

Later when I heard the sound of chairs moving, I hurried into my room. Silently of course. Just a minute later somebody knocked at my door. It was Elena asking me if I was fine. I explained that I needed more sleep. She accepted my polite refusal and left.

I lay on my bed, reflecting on what had happened. I have to admit that I was curious. Who were these people? Why did Damon have those abilities and how had he learned to shield his mind? And what was up with the mafia-ties and with those girls. Where they just harmless tourists? I doubted it. Time to do a little research on my own. However, I decided to keep out of Damon's way. He was a mystery and therefore dangerous. For now.

Since I couldn't be sure that the sweepers had finished their search for me, I needed to stay undercover a bit longer. I would hide in this place. And soon I would take a little tour through Mr. Salvatore's mansion, all by myself.

My opportunity came sooner then I had thought. An hour later the girls decided to visit an art gallerly and suggested that I should stay at home. Even Damon had agreed to accopany them to the for whatever reason.

Maybe he really liked artwork. Antique oil paintings adorned the walls of this mansion, so he surely had an interest in art. And the money to afford a Ridolfo Ghirlandaio. The picture, a portrait of a female, hung in the living room, if it really was an original it must have cost thousands of Euros and was probably several centuries old.

Yes, maybe he was an art-lover. Or maybe it just was Bonnie's very tight mini skirt. Whatever.

At the breakfast table, I had noticed him glancing at her several times, with a strange and slightly predatory look in his eyes, but Bonnie had been busy raving about Italian Renaissance and never caught him. I made aother mental note, Damon's his hidden interest in her would surely be of use later on. With him out of the way, I had my chance. I still remembered the letter, not to mention his reaction towards my mindscan, so I decided to sneak around and see if I could find out more about the Salvatore-connection.

I waited in my room till they had left. Then, I strolled through the house. First I poked into every room on the first floor, later I searched the second floor. The guest rooms were located there, as well as the private quarters of Mr. Michelangelo and his notorious brother. Michelangelo's, pardon, Stefan's, rooms were completely uninteresting. They were tidy and everything was perfectly in order. Several books about construction and historcial buildings lay on his desk. According to some notes on a collegeblock he studied architecture at the Florence University. I was surprised since I had thought him to be younger, he looked more like a highschool boy, still it was not unthinkable. Looks could be deceiving. But these were not the documents I was looking for.

Just on the other end of the floor, I found a locked door. I was pretty sure that this was Damon's room. I studied the lock more closely. Nothing special, no high security. I have short hair and never wear any kind of ornaments, so I had to go back to Elena's room, which was located next to Stefan's quarters. I „borrowed" a hairpin from her nightstand and thus prepared checked the lock again. It took me no more then thirty seconds until the lock opened with a soft click.

Behind the door waited an impressive suite of finest luxury. Everything was excellent as were most things in this house. I stood in a living room with a comfortable sofa and a large TV. A little replica of Donantello's famous David stood next to the window. At least I assumed it was a replica. However, something about the sculpture disturbed me, I couldn't tell what. I have read diverse books about history and culture, but I'm no specialist for artwork. I took a closer look but the stature wouldn't give aways its secret.

Eventually I shrugged and headed for a door to the left. Ah, the sleeping room. I don't want to make to many comments about the huge bed that dominated the room. Or about the finest wooden tapestry with Greek half-naked figures in erotic poses. Just two words: „red" and „satin". I raised an eyebrow. No, that bed was surely not meant to be slept in alone. However, it was not orderly as Stefan's room had been. A black shirt lay loosely on the bed and several books looked as if they were just thrown into the bookshelf. I scrutinized the room for a second and decided that the chances of finding valuable hints were relatively low. So I went back to the living room. There was another door to the right of the entrance. I checked that too.

Finally I found something worthy of a closer research. A pompous workroom in 19th century noble style. Mahagony bookselves and a huge desk. This could be the place were Damon Salvatore wrote his letters. If I found a paper with his handwriting I could confirm my suspicion. I went around the desk and took place in a huge chair, that looked very old and much less comfortable than it actually was. There was a pile of paper on the desk. Handwritten. Next to it was an inkpot and a quill.

„A bit old fashioned, are we?" I murmured and grabbed the papers. Carefully of course, since I didn't want to bring them in disorder. And as I had already assumed, the handwriting was familiar. The content was insignificant, however.

A PC and a flatscreen disturbed the perfect illusion of visting the past. They were just too modern for this room. Maybe I would find more interesting information there. I was about to turn the computer on when I looked up and hesitated. I had just noticed a picture on the wall opposite the desk. It was a portrait of two young men. Definitve old renaiccance style. The adolescents wore the typical clothing of 15th or 16th century nobles. However, they looked exactly like Damon and Stefan. The similarity was profound. I had a closer look. Maybe Damon had ordered an artist to copy the style of old art. Still, when I stood right in front if the picture, the colors were worn out and the texture was brittle. He must have paid a lot to artificially age the linseed and the linen. Forgers practiced such techniques. But for someone with his conncections, it didn't surprise me too much. Still, I felt that something was strange about this, the feeling was similar to the impression I had when looking at the David sculpture. Eventually I found the detail that had disturbed me the whole time. It was the signature. It said „Ridolfo Ghirlandaio". Mr. Ghirlandaio had been a famous artist, and he had portrayed the nobility of his time. But like his objects he was dead for several centuries. I frowned.

Suddenly a soft voice spoke behind me.

„well, well, we do like art, don't we?"

I turned around. Damon was leaning in the door frame.


	5. 17

Ah, Digital Dawn is back. And there is victorhugofan. Two readers! Yeah!(winks readers) Hope you like this chapter, even if it lacks content. Its practically just Damon charming and threatening people. Thinking about it, that's his usual habit with girls, isn't it?

Tanks, Dally, for the corrections.

--

17

„Seems I caught a spy." he said, switching into Italian. So did I.

„Uhh sorry, I couldn't sleep and my arm hurt, there were only stupid shows on TV and I'm not much of a reader. So I went around and..." I trailed off. I was just glad, he hadn't found me while searching his his desk, that would have made my story even less credible. Why hadn't I heard him coming? He must have moved in utter silence. He stepped closer.

„Hm... I don't believe a word."

I kept stending were I was, looking frightened and harmless. He stood right in front of me and leaned against the wall, his arms trapping me. His face was only few centimetres away from mine. The look in his eyes was menacing, but still amused, like a cat watching it's prey. I was in trouble.

„I had the feeling..." he told me with pleasure, „that I wouln't find you lying in your bed. You have a good stamina. A little bit too good for my taste. And you are a little bit too nosy."

„I really didn't mean to-"

„What? Spy? Sneak around? Pick my lock?"

I raised my shoulders.

„I'm mortally curious?"

As he was in a playful mood, I tried it with humor. It worked. He laughed softly.

„Curiousity killed the cat."

„Are your secrets that important? Something you would kill for?"

A smile crossed his lips briefly. He leaned a little closer, I could feel his soft breath against my skin. I noticed the faint smell of his aftershave. The scent made my stomach tingle. His eys were dark and mesmerizing. And definitely very attractive. For a moment I felt like getting lost in them. To my own surprise a part of me wanted to get lost in them. How would his lips feel on mine? For the first time in my life I felt drawn to somebody. That was higly irritating. He was irritating! And he looked so good. As if under a spell I opened my lips, anticipating a kiss. All of a sudden a realization stuck me. He was exercizing mental powers! Maybe some kind of hypnosis.

I adjusted my mental shield. The tension I felt lessened in an instant. My stomach went back to normal as well. So far to being sexually attracted. Damon had not realized that his psychic ability was lost on me.

„Hm... maybe... maybe you want to tell me, little kitten." he murmured. A graceful finger caressed my neck and played with my hair. „You came to my realm, after all."

„Well, something surely captivates my interest." I answered mimicking his bedroom voice. His smile gew wider, hidden triumph glimmered in his eyes for a moment.

„Yes?"

Now I was smiling.

„How much did you pay for the Ridolfo Ghirlandaio immitation? A nice peace of forgery and very extravagant if I may say so."

All of a sudden his eyes grew narrow and radiated anger, now he noticed my deception. With a hiss he turned away from me and we stopped the charade. When he turned around again, he scowled.

„I knew it. You scanned us this morning. And your mental barriers are far too good for a mere mortal. You are gifted and I bet you are trained. Who sent you? The White Rose? Tell Mariella its over. She can stop chasing me like a lovesick adder. And that includes sending her spies again and again."

I listened silently and stored each single peace of information. Mere Mortal? White Rose? Mariella? He scrutinized me.

„Or are you a servant of Villanova? No, you don't look like one of his brutes. What is it? Did you turn mute?"

He came closer once more, grabed my right limb and pinned it to the wall. His gaze wasn't friendly anymore. Not even amused. However, the fortunes smiled on me that day. Before I could even answer, we heard steps in the living room. Bonnies cheerful voice saved me.

„Damon? Damon, I found the passport, you don't have to-"

She saw Damon leaning over me and stopped. Of course the girl misinterpreted the situation. Totally. For me, her timing coulnd't have been better.

„Damon!" she cried out, angry and astonished. „How dare you! Let go of her!"

To my surprise, Damon followed her orders. He sent me looks that could kill, especially when I burst into tears, and ran towards Bonnie.

„I'm sorry." I sobbed. „I didn't want to break the rules. I just wanted to look at the paintings in this house."

Suddenly his voice resounded in my mind.

:Bitch:

:Be careful, I answered the same way. :I could also tell her that you lured me here to seduce me.:

:No:

The sending carried a hint of emotion with it. Anger and... frustration?

:Afraid that she would believe me:

He was silent. I took it that I had just hit the mark. Obviously Damon didn't want Bonnie to be involved in this. I wondered why. My suspicion turned to certainty. He felt more for her then just physical desire. A weakness. And I would do my best to use it against him. Bonny spoke again.

„Damon, what did you do? She is all in a fluster."

„He thinks I wanted to spy." I sobbed miserably. „I'm so sorry. You helped me and I wouldn't want to do anything-"

She put her arms around me protectively and I rested my head on her shoulder, showing the perfect image of a very frightened girl.

„Did he threaten you?" Bonnie asked sharply.

„No, no." I mumbled. „He just got angry on me."

„Damon, don't be so rude!"

„Rude?" he repeated. So far, my strategy worked out to my full statisfaction. She was completely on my side and he couldn't do or say anything against me without risking her anger. „I took a stranger in my house, whom we know nothing about and you call me rude?"

She glared at him.

„You know what I mean."

He shrugged in defeat.

„Ok,ok, I'm sorry, alright? Just tell her to keep out of my private rooms and we won't have any problems."

Bonnie lead me out of the door and we left. We were out in the hallway when I heard Damon's voice in my head again.

:So the kitten showed her little fangs. Well, if you invite me to dance, dance we will.:

:As you wish.": I sent back. I had won a battle, but it was his home after all. And now that he was prepared, winning the war would not be an easy task. Anyway, the key to success moved next to me and asked me what I had done in Damon's room.

„I was just hanging around. I didn't have any other intentions."

„Yeah, I know what you mean", Bonnie answered in an understanding tone. „This house is just too stylish, right? And don't worry over Damon. He is just a bit paranoid, that's it. And he's got a problem with his attitude. But he is ok, after all."

Of course I „forgot" to mention that I had in fact picked a lock to get into his rooms.

„Why are you back so soon?" I asked instead.

„Oh that was just because I noticed I that my purse was missing with my passport and my money and all, and Damon offered to drive back with me to look for it. You see, he can be really nice, too."

Really nice? I had my doubts. For him, this had been the perfect opportunity to catch me red-handed.

„If you don't know what to do, there's a computer with a flat screen in Stefan's room. He surely won't mind if you'd surf a little on the internet."

Now an impulsive outburst of emotion was in order.

„Thank you Bonnie." I embraced her. „Thank you, you are so nice to me. Just like a friend would be."

„Oh, that's ok, dear. We can be friends if you like", she said.

I nodded.

„That would be great."

She smiled at me and patted my unharmed shoulder.

„You're welcome. Really you are. Sometimes people just need a friend. And I like you a lot."

I returned the smile.

Damon passed along. He watched us and his expression hardened.

„Maybe you better get rest, yesterday you were close to dying." he said. „And you won't risk your... health, would you? That would be very stupid."

„Yes, I think, I'll be a lot more careful in the future."

„We'll see."

We both knew we were not speaking about yesterday. They left, though not without a subtle warning glance from my annoyed, yet still mysterious host.

TBC


	6. 16

Since after all this time this still seems to have readers (I can't believe it), I decided I could do a little updating.

--

16

The afternoon passed by without any incidents. For know I had decided to follow Damon's order to keep out of his business. Besides, I assumed that he had secured everything of interest and put it out of reach. At least that was what I would have done. So I expected nothing less. Otherwise he wouldn't have left me alone again. I decided to get me some sympathy and prepared tagliatelle with basil pesto and zabaglione. My cooking skills were not the best, but thanks to the internet, I had found some recipes and tips for preparation. It wasn't that hard to boil noodles after all. Preparing the Pesto was more difficult and roasting the pine nuts only worked at the third time. I burned them twice. Anyway, I hoped the menu would support my made up Italian identity.

I was just ready when they rushed in. They came to the kitchen quickly; the scent of basil and parmesan drew them near. As expected, Elena and Bonnie were excited about Italian food and nearly drooled at the sight of the zabaglione. Stefan was worried about me having done cooking „in my state", Damon refrained from any comment. He probably expected the food to be poisoned or something like that. Eventually we all took place on the dinner table and I served the meal.

They told me of the wonderful artwork at the gallery. Apparently Bonnie was the artlover in the clique, Elena and Stefan were also interested, but they were not so fascinated by paintings as her friend. Bonnie told me that she planned to study art history after college. She dreamt of studying in Europe, maybe even in Italy. Due to my formal education, I could throw one or two names of famous painters into the discussion and Bonnie was happy to find somebody who shared her interest.

Stefan and Elena were uncomplicated. I was sure they liked me, and besides, they hadn't seen each other for over a year. Thus, they were too lovestruck to notice what was left or right. Stefan wondered absently that I was healing so well, but I quickly switched the topic and he forgot it. Damon was silent. He drank wine and made one or two comments that proved his knowledge about the art, but most of the time, he observed me and my apparent friendship with Bonnie with barely hidden mistrust. However, he kept a civilized tone as long as the others were around.

Later, when I was alone in my room, preparing to sleep, a soft knock came from the door.

„Yes?", I said.

It was Bonnie. She wore a pajama and held a shopping bag in her hand.

„I couldn't sleep. Maybe it's the wine I had tonight. So I thought, I might also check if you are fine and anything."

„Yes I'm fine."

„Do you want to chat a little or are you tired?"

„Chat. I slept the whole morning."

We set down on my bed. It was a warm night and we didn't need the blanket. A nightingale sang in the courtyard. We listened for a while. None of us had ever heard a nightingale singing in such clarity. Soon, we started talking, though.

Bonnie told me of her life in America, of the little town called Fell's Church where she and Elena had lived when they were still on high school. They had also met Stefan and Damon there; the guys had been exchange students. Damon had already studied at the university, while Stefan had been in high school. He had been in the same class as Elena and Bonnie and he and Elena had become a couple. Then Stefan had gone back to Italy while Bonnie and Elena had finished high school and gone to college together. Now they had summer holidays and visited the boys in Florence. Bonnie also asked me about my past and my family. I gave some evading answers. She noticed that I tensed as soon as my family was mentioned. Surely she suspected a story of abuse and violence behind this, just as I tried to imply. Being a tactful, polite person, she changed the topic quickly.

Today Bonnie and Elena had also been on a shopping tour, Bonnie suggested that next time I should accompany them. Bonnie went into raptures about the Florence fashion scene.

„Italia Moda", she said, „is so hot. I just wish I had enough money, I'd threw away all my clothes and wear only Italian stuff."

„You already are a hot chick", I stated.

Bonnie grinned.

„Thanks, but _this_ stuff makes me look like a lady. Here."

She pulled a negligee out of the bag. It was a sweet nothing of grey chiffon adorned with silver ornaments.

„Oh that looks great." I said the first thing that came to my mind. Then I noticed footsteps from the hall. Maybe it was Damon who wanted to continue our little „discussion". Maybe the fortunes were on my side again.

„Well, I'd love to see how it looks on you", I said.

As every young woman with a new gown, Bonnie was eager to follow my suggestion.

„Give me a minute."

She hurried to the bathroom. Meanwhile I prepared myself for whoever was outside. If it was Damon I would have a little surprise for him.

I was right. The Door opened revealing Damon's cold, handsome face.

„Oh, Mr. Salvatore..." I batted my eyelashes at him in an exaggerated pose. „You... and I... alone in my room... so late.... I don't know, should I be flattered or frightened?"

„Stick to the second option."

„Well, in that case, I decide not to be frightened at all. What is it?"

He approached me, taking each step slowly, gracefully. Like a panther on the hunt.

„You still haven't told me who you work for. Or what your aim is."

„Maybe I work for nobody. Maybe I came here just by chance."

„I don't believe you. Somehow, you tricked Elena into bringing you here. Very good. Even I believed you for a moment. But now you'll give me the truth."

„Truth is relative."

He raised a finger and made a hissing sound.

„No. No abstract philosophy tonight. Maybe you don't realize the danger you're in. I have been nice. Very nice, because I like to keep things the civilized way."

He had reached the bed.

„But if you don't feel like cooperating, I will have to do... certain things. Unpleasant things. I will have to be...".

"What? Naughty?" I grinned boldly. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of having him win the argument. And I needed him occupied, until...

He noticed the sexual allusion and a leering smile appeared on his lips. „Bad. Evil. Maybe even cruel."

„And if I am a nice girl?"

„If you're a nice girl, I will maybe let you live..."

„Oh, wait, now that's the part, where I'm supposed I fall on my knees and beg for your mercy?"

He laughed, amused and sarcastic at the same time.

„Kneeling and begging would be a nice start."

„How to handle girls. Part one ", I stated because the bathroom door opened in this very moment.

„And? How do you … Damon?!?"

He turned around to Bonnie and we all froze. Nobody moved, except for a strong blush spreading on Bonnie's face. She stood there naked, except for a cloud of transparent chiffon.

He simply stared at her.

I leaned back, waiting for the volcano to explode. Too bad I didn't have popcorn. According to common cliché this was a popcorn situation. I was so close to enjoying myself as I could ever get. Bonnie turned from red to white.

„YOU MORON! WHAT DO YOU THINK! YOU CAN'T JUST WALK INTO A GIRL'S ROOM! YOU HAVE TO KNOCK!!!"  
„I did kno-"

"LECHEROUS BASTARD! PERVERT!!! OUT!!!"

She was absolutely wonderful. I wondered if her cries woke up the whole neighborhood.

„May I mention that I'm not the one running around just in underwear! Revealing underwear if I may say so!", he responded calmly.

However, the fire in his eyes betrayed his cool demeanor. Damon definitely liked what he saw. And he enjoyed the situation. Yes, he did. My weapon worked. He was distracted.

Soon he wisely retreated, since Bonnie had grabbed a crystal ash-tray, ready to throw it at him.

„I better leave the ladies..." He reached for the door. By now he was grinning widely. „...to whatever activities you planned for the night. Anyway, you look gorgeous, bella, so if you want me to join..."

He chuckled. Bonnie cried in anger. The ash-tran rushed through the air... and shattered at the closed door.

„What a jerk!"

I sighed deeply.

„Yes!"

We looked at each other and burst into laughter.

When Bonnie finally left me alone, I made up a plan of my own. Tomorrow I would try and start a little matchmaking. And meanwhile I would solve the secrets of Damon Salvatore.


End file.
